Invisible Sensation
by Wolf of the Light
Summary: Nothing like a day at the beach to curb one's desire for fun. But what if a joyful day in the sand and sun turned sour, even . . . deadly? Ikarishipping, Contestshipping, Pokeshipping, and OldRivalshipping, all in good time. A little bit of romance mixed with some hurt. Ongoing.
1. Alone

**A/N**: Okay . . . So, finals are over. I did awesome, two A's and two B's. I'm proud of myself!

Either way, a rough draft of this has been sitting in my Google Docs since about the beginning of the semester, so when I stumbled upon it one night I decided to make a final version of it. This is what became of it!

To be honest, this one takes a slightly dark turn, I'm not really sure how to describe it. I was actually inspired by when the movie _If I Stay_ came out. I read the book back when I was in high school, so I already knew the gist of the story. I figured, what the hell, I might as well try something.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot line. Kudos to Satoshi Tajiri completely.**

* * *

_Where . . . Where am I?_

Everything felt dark and cold. A dank feeling hung in the air as wisps of fog rolled silently along the ground. The quietness of it all seemed to absorb all noise, not that there was much anyway. Nothing moved except the fog. But then there was a sound, so small it was almost unnoticeable. It came from beneath the fog, a hand following it. It reached blindly through the low clouds, grasped blindly at the air, then slowly fell back to the ground once realizing there was nothing to grab above. Below the fog the hand fell to its owner's face, running their fingers through a messy shock of blue hair. Pushing it away from their eyes, matching irises stared blankly from a small, pale face as they roved the desolate area. They seemed to see everything, yet nothing at the same time.

The person_—_no, _girl__—_removed her hand from her hair, lifting it to look at the back of it. Wiggling her fingers slowly, she watched as they gave off a slight ethereal glow in the darkness that surrounded her. It was amazing, she thought, so unreal. She could see nothing but her hand, the fog, and the ground she lay on. Anything else was invisible to her eyes.

As she studied her hand she noticed a long, thin scar that ran along the length of her forearm, reaching all the way to her shoulder. Following it with her eyes, she found that it twisted over her skin, marking something that had happened_—_she just couldn't remember what. Her hand fisted in frustration, the fog wisping away. Pressing the back of her knuckles against her forehead, she closed her eyes. It wasn't long before she felt something pull at her mind, tugging at her to . . . remember. It was a memory, she realized.

It came in small bits at first, so as the first flash came to her she sat up. With the back of her hand still held to her face, she frowned. Maybe . . . With shaky fingers she touched the edge of the scar with her other hand. It felt bumpy against her skin as she followed the length of it across her arm. Touching the scar seemed to jolt the memory, images of white sand and blue water flashing across her eyes. _A beach_, she realized. Pursing her lips, she furrowed her brow as she tried to see more: Fluffy cumulous clouds, foam on the crests of waves, seagulls crying as they dove for fish, a volleyball being tossed back and forth.

_Wait_. She opened her eyes. _A volleyball? Where did that come from?_

* * *

"_Hey, Dawn!"_

* * *

Dawn.

_Dawn_. That's right, her name was Dawn, she realized. Suddenly, she could see, _actually _see. She looked around wildly, life seeming to return to her eyes. Her armed dropped as she leaned back on one hand, her arm straining to keep her upright. What little she could see in the dimness faded for a moment, then snapped back to clarity so quickly it felt like it should have given her whiplash. The memory continued unheeded this time.

* * *

_Folding the magazine in her lap, the blunette looked up. She'd been reading from the safety of her beach chair, basking in the shade cast by the umbrella above her. Her sunglasses slid down her nose, causing her to squint through the hazy sunlight in front of her. "What?" she called, pushing her glasses back up so she could see. Across the sand, someone was calling to her. It was a girl with brown hair tied back in pigtails, and she was holding a ball, a . . . volleyball?_

"_Why don't you come play beach volleyball with us? You could be on my team so we can gang up on Misty." The brunette held the ball above her head, waving it from side to side in invitation. Another girl stood nearby, a redhead._ Misty_, Dawn thought. She was standing with her hands propped on her hips, a wrap that had been tied around her waist swaying in the salty breeze._

I know her game,_ she thought to herself. "No thanks, May, Dawn called back. "You know how bad I burn." _May._ She leaned back in her chair, once again fully beneath the umbrella that protected her from the sun's harsh rays. Ignoring May's incessant begging, she returned to her magazine. To make a point to May, she exaggerated her attention concerning an article, as if it had captured her full attention. Even when her phone rang from a text, she paid it no mind. When May's groan of defeat sounded across the sand, Dawn grinned in triumph. _Dawn, 1. May, 0.

* * *

Everything stopped suddenly, the last image burning away like broken film in a projector. "No!" she screeched, her voice echoing in the empty dark. Torment filled her. So close, she'd been _so close_. Somehow she knew the reason she was here was in that memory. But she needed to figure out how to get it back.

Pressing her fingers against the scar once more, she squeezed her eyes shut as she concentrated. Seconds turned to minutes as she waited. But there was nothing. _Nothing_. Slumping in defeat, she pressed her forehead to the cold ground, crying out in anguish as tears rushed down her face, pooling on the floor. Curling into a ball, she gripped her knees as she screamed, crumpling fabric she hadn't even realized was there. She pulled at it, realizing it was the skirt of a night dress, and pressed it against her face to dry her tears. Sobbing silently for a moment, she gritted her teeth against the soft cotton. Sniffling, she opened her eyes, frowning. Something didn't feel right. Quickly sitting up, she sniffed again so she could breathe, or at least attempt to. Through the thinness of the dress she could see the shape of her legs, pale and glowing slightly, just like her hands. Because of this she could see that the skin on her right leg was discolored. With shaky hands she pulled the skirt away from her leg, leaning forward slightly so she could see better.

Spots. There were spots of scars that ran all over the top of her thigh, as if someone had taken a hot poker and stabbed her multiple times. Some of them were connected, like a half-finished game of Connect the Dots. Her brow furrowed as she looked at them, tracing them with her eyes as she had with the one on her arm. As she roved her skin, something caught her eye. It was small, but there was a subtle movement between two marks. She watched, entranced, as a line began to connect them, almost as if someone were taking a glow-in-the-dark Magic Marker and running it under her flesh. The dots connected slowly, crawling all the way from the middle of her thigh, curving around her knee, coming to a halt on the back of her calf.

Fear slowly crept down her spine as she followed the line back up the length of her leg. The thinness of it slowly started to change, spreading out to become an ugly, uneven shape. With shaking fingers she slowly reached a hand down, barely touching it with a fingertip.

* * *

"_Dawn!"_

_Slight irritation ran through her as she looked up where she was crouching. After she'd finally made her way out from beneath the umbrella, she'd wandered over to some shallow pools a few feet from the shoreline. She'd been soaking her hands in them until May had called her. Peering over the piles of sand that surrounded her, she looked for May. The small dunes had created an almost nonexistent barrier against the wind. It had been picking up as the afternoon had worn on, tossing her long hair around her face as she had been digging a small area for her to sit in._

"_Hey, Dawn, we're leaving soon! The lifeguard just called that there was a thunderstorm warning on the radio for the area!" May stood a few yards away, her hands cupped around her mouth to amplify her voice. The wind whipped her pigtails behind her head, her bangs falling into her eyes. "Come grab your stuff before the waves get really bad!"_

_What was she talking about? The wind may have been acting up, but the water seemed fine. There hadn't been any crazy crashing sounds as she'd been sitting there. "I'll be over in a minute!" she called anyway. This didn't seem to appease her friend very much, but the brunette nodded, turned, and jogged across the sand to where her stuff lay on their towels._

_Dawn continued to dip her hands in the pool. Small sea life creatures that had been washed into the pools roamed beneath the swirling surface, their little heads peeking out from their holes in the sand. Every time Dawn's fingers ventured close to them they escaped from her reach, scattering into their underwater holes. Usually this would have frustrated her to no end, but she just let it go; she didn't want something so small to ruin her fun. The shy little sea creatures weren't her main problem._

_The baby crabs and tiny urchins kept her attention so much that she didn't notice the sand flying across the beach behind her. Grains of it were slowly taking over whatever beach apparel the people who'd come for a day in the sun had left. Umbrellas were becoming uprooted from their setting in the ground, flipping and flying away in the wind. If people hadn't began to scream Dawn probably would have never looked up from her amusement. Children ran behind her, calling for their mothers and fathers who were somewhere down the stretch of swirling sand. As Dawn looked over her shoulder, sand from the kids running by flew into her eyes, blinding her momentarily. But a moment was all it took._

_Spluttering, Dawn stumbled to her feet. She rubbed incessantly at her eyes, trying to recover her vision enough to walk. No matter how much she rubbed or wiped at her eyes, though, whenever she tried to open them the pain made her squint them shut again. Drops of rain began to pelt her back and top of her head as the storm the lifeguard had warned everybody about started getting closer to the beach._

"_Dawn!" Recognizing her friend's voice, Dawn turned in the direction May had called from. Her damaged vision caused her to see nothing but blurs, but she was still able to make out the bright redness of her tank top. She was waving her arms again, but this time in distress. It was hard to tell, but it looked like May was running toward her. The sand was so dense on Dawn's eyelashes and the pain so great that it was difficult for her to attempt to make her way toward her friend. "Dawn, hurry! The tide is getting strong, it's taking over the shoreline!"_

_The wind was so great that it drowned out the last of May's words. Sand was everywhere now, in Dawn's ears, her mouth, under her clothes__—__there was no escape. It was all so confusing that she stumbled, almost falling to her knees. Then the waves reached her feet, splashing past her and almost knocking her over as they grew in size. The rain made the sand stick, the ocean washed it away; it was an endless cycle as Dawn took feeble steps in May and Misty's direction__—__their voices sounded distant in the howling wind, even though she knew they couldn't be more than a few yards away, she just had to keep going__—__but then the storm really began._

_Waves rolled past her, one strong enough that when it slammed into the back of her knees it knocked her flat on her face. Water rushed over her head as it was pulled back into the ocean; it clogged her nose, forced its way down her throat. She wasn't even in a foot of water and she was already choking. There was barely a moment for her to even take a breath before the next wave crashed over her__—__this time taking her with it._

* * *

The silence was a shock to her ears. It had almost seemed that the water had really been in her ears, blocking her hearing, its salt stinging her eyes with further pain. It had been so cold, robbing any warmth from her body as the wave had sucked her into the ocean. Presently sweat rolled down her face, dripping to the foggy ground. Tears mixed with the sweat as her vision became blurry. This time she wished it was sand, it would have given her a reason to scream in pain. The sound that ripped from her throat was almost animal, a sound so anguished it echoed emptily around her for no one to hear.

What did these visions mean? Were they showing her the future? Or maybe . . . no. No, she couldn't bear it. She was already so hurt: more scars had appeared on her body, creeping like ivy under skin. There was nothing to do for her to stop it, they just kept . . . showing up. This time she didn't need to touch them for the memories to play. She only wished she could stop them.

* * *

_It was cold and dark. She could feel the water rushing around her, swirling into her own personal cocoon made of salt and her blood. On her way into the ocean, rocks had scraped at her skin, cutting jagged marks into her flesh. Idly she thought about how the blood in the water could attract sharks from miles around. But it slipped away as easily as the sand on the beach in the storm's wind. It was so calm under the water, so remarkable how different it was from the storm above her that rocked the waves. For a while Dawn's chest was exploding with fire as she began to suffocate, but then the pain just ebbed away as she slowly slipped unconscious. The sway of the water became soothing as she was carried further out to sea, sealing her fate._

* * *

No.

No, it couldn't be.

This wasn't true, _how could it be possible._

But it was.

Dawn was too numb to feel anything anymore. She lay on her side, curled in the fetal position. Tears pooled beneath her cheek. She'd forgotten she was even crying. The fog around her thickened, curling around her as if to comfort her in her grief. If she'd had any feeling in her body she would have been grateful. But how was she able to feel anything at all?

_She was dead._

* * *

**A/N**: So, yeah. This one is shorter than most of the rest, only 2,479 words. I mostly get to about 6,000, but oh well. Either way, for any of you reading my other story _Ability to Tame, _I'm still working on the latest chapter, school kind of got in the way.

Till next time, though. _Ciao._


	2. Aware

**A/N**: Okay, I'll be honest: This was supposed to be just a side thing I'd do while trying to write for some of my other pieces, but I didn't mean to leave it alone for this long. I'd apparently been working on it until last September, if my Drive's dates are any indicator. SO. Well, here you go, I guess.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot line. Kudos to Satoshi Tajiri completely.

* * *

_"Mommy, when's Daddy coming home?"_

_"He's working late tonight, sweetheart," her mother replied, tucking a small Dawn into bed for the night. The tableside lamp threw a soft glow across the woman's face as she brushed the bangs away from her daughter's eyes. "He told me to tell you he loved you, and that he hopes you have sweet dreams tonight."_

_Snuggling beneath the covers, Dawn pulled a book from beneath her pillow. She'd stuffed it beneath it earlier that day in hopes of a story being read to her. "Read for me please, Mommy?"_

_Smiling, she took the book from her daughter, turning to the first page. As she read the first lines in a soft voice, Dawn began to drift as she curled by her mother's lap. The lamp lit her dreams that night, guiding her way through the darkness._

* * *

Fog was the only thing she could see. It clouded her vision, filled her ears like the waves that had drowned her—it was as if it were a part of her. This was impossible, she knew, but what else was she supposed to think? She was dead. There was nothing she could do about it.

Ever since the last of the vision had faded away, Dawn had been lying on the cold ground. She didn't move, didn't think, she didn't even breathe. Why would she need to? She didn't need oxygen anymore so why even pretend she did? It was an old habit she couldn't break just yet though, and soon her chest began to rise and fall again in the movement she'd known since birth.

Muffled voices surrounded her every now and then. They were always unintelligible whispers, always at the edge of her hearing. It was like someone was holding a speaker next her ear with the volume turned almost all the way down—it was unnerving.

Time passed like nothing, the voices coming and going. To Dawn the idea of time had no meaning anymore. She wouldn't age, she wouldn't see her friends or family anymore. Family . . . Now that she thought about it, her death must have broken her mother's heart. Dawn's father had died when she was only a child, leaving her mother alone to raise her young daughter.

_This must have killed her_, she thought as she lay there. _Huh, funny since I'm the one who's dead._ A twitch of her lips betrayed the beginning of an ironic smile, but it faded, just like her subconscious.

It was a while before she roused. She had no idea how long she was out, nor did she really care. As far as she knew she was stuck in this fog-filled limbo; the voices were thankfully gone for the moment. Maybe this was where she belonged. Who was she to decide where she was supposed to end up in death? Sometimes she desired a glimpse of her old life: her mom, her friends; anyone who could help her feel normal. Or at least something like normal. Nothing was normal anymore. She'd realized this long ago.

It was boring sometimes, just laying there. She didn't require food so she never got hungry, nor did she need water. At times she would draw circles on the ground, swirling the fog between her fingers. Nothing ever happened when she did this, but this time something was off. The fog still swayed around her hand, but for some reason it didn't dissipate or fade away like usual. Dawn watched as the water vapor around her hand began to swirl, spinning into a ball before her. She pulled her hand away and it dissolved, dripping to the ground. Leaning forward slightly, she snuck a peek at what was forming.

To anyone's ordinary eye it would have looked like any other puddle. But Dawn knew better. She'd been around this fog long enough to know what was "normal" and what was "weird," and this was definitely in the odd category. There had been nothing like this puddle wherever Dawn had roamed when she'd had a rare burst of energy some eons ago. As she watched it, it slowly solidified, forming what appeared to be a mirror. Curiosity got the better of her, so she placed her hands near the edge of it to balance herself, leaning forward to peer into its reflective surface.

Dawn's reflection stared back at her for a moment before it began to shimmer, the image transforming. It wasn't a mirror, but a looking glass, she realized. It showed her nothing but her wavering reflection for a few seconds, but then it faded away. Slowly it showed her something she wasn't expecting: someone's bedroom. It was sparsely furnished, the only furniture in the room a wood-framed bed, a matching dresser, and a desk with a computer sitting on it. The sheets on the bed were unmade, piled in a heap on the middle of the mattress; clothes littered the floor, dark sweaters and pants piled by the dresser; stacks of paper covered the desktop. The papers were what drew her attention the most. They were colorful, with red crosses and diagrams of people on them. One even looked like an official document, it had a signature and everything. Dawn's curiosity was peaked, so she tried to lean forward and see more. She didn't even notice when her face went through the surface of the looking glass.

The depth of her vision changed as she submerged into the reflective image before her. She hung upside down, her view of the room flipped from her original one, as if she were looking at the outer curved side of a spoon. This went unnoticed to Dawn though—she was too enraptured by the bedroom. It had been so long since she'd seen signs of life—anything besides her empty stay at limbo.

The room was obviously lived in, and if Dawn's hunch was correct, by someone of the male persuasion. Slowly she let herself fall into the room, her feet floating to the floor. There was no sound as her heels touched the hardwood boards. Her movements were silent as she began to explore. The insides of the dresser were too private for her to touch, but she looked at the documents that had first drawn her attention. There were indeed red crosses on them, and after further investigation she found that they were lifeguard training and license forms. There were names written along certain lines, but they only looked like squiggles to her, the handwriting was terrible. Leaving the desk she moved back to the dresser, admiring the mess in front of it. Toeing one of the sweaters, she flopped onto the bed, falling backward into the sheets.

_I can't believe this._ Tears pooled in her eyes. She let them fall as she stared at the ceiling, her arms spread across the mattress on either side of her. _Is this actually real?_ Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes she let out a sob. It felt like she'd been alone for what felt like so long, she wasn't sure if she could handle being around another person. Could she do it? She only had a moment to think about it, her crying interrupted by the click of the door handle being turned. Quickly crawling off the mattress she stumbled to her feet. Could they see her? she wondered. It was the first time she'd really thought about it. Would they see her if she just kept standing there?

The door opened silently, closing just the same. A boy walked in, his shaggy hair hanging in front of sleepy eyes. Removing his jacket and throwing it on the bed, he went and sat in front of the computer. As he waited for it to boot up, his eye caught something in the corner of his vision. Dawn's phantom heart began to race. She hadn't left her spot since he'd walked in; she'd just been standing there, looking at him. When his eyes turned to her direction she took one step forward in hope. But then his hand reached out to tidy the documents beside him. Her heart fell then. _He can't see me_, she thought dejectedly. _Why did I even think that he could?_

For what felt like hours she sat on the floor between the dresser and the desk. She hid in the shadows the dresser cast, the lines of her scars giving off an ethereal glow in the dimness. All the while the boy sat at his computer, clicking away at whatever was holding his attention for so long. Dawn nodded off after a while, the clicking seeming to keep time with her silent heartbeats.

* * *

It was night when she regained consciousness, her eyes fluttering open to the dark. It was so sudden that she panicked in her confusion. Where was the day? What happened to the light? The shuffling of her hands was silent as she scrambled to her feet. She used the desk as support, not noticing when the lifeguard documents went fluttering to the floor behind her. Stumbling, she reached out a hand to guide her. _Don't leave me in the dark. Please. I don't want to be alone._

She was brought back to reality when her knees collided with the edge of the bed. Falling forward, she braced herself with her hands, landing on her elbows. Thoroughly spooked, she floundered some more until she realized the bed was empty. When she'd fallen there'd been nothing but messy sheets beneath her hands, now tangled in the fabric. Once her heart slowed down and her eyes adjusted to the dimness—moonlight shone through the thin curtains, just enough to see—she searched the room. The boy wasn't in it, but the door was open. A perfect line of light was across the hall, running parallel to the floor. A crack of light, she realized, to the bathroom. Then the light went out.

Quickly she scrambled from the bed. She knew he could not see her, but she wasn't sure if she was even corporeal. She didn't even know how long she'd been dead. But that didn't really matter, what was time to her anymore?

Huddling back against the side of the dresser, she listened more than heard as he collapsed onto the bed. The springs squeaked as they gave way beneath him, and soon his light snores filled the silence. In her little corner she listened, closing her eyes as she pulled her knees to her chest. Folding her arms across her knees she laid her forehead against them, trying to ignore the tears that escaped the corners of her eyes.

* * *

The dawn came quickly the next day, early rays of the sun peeking through the crack between the curtains. The thread of light shone across the floor, zigzagging over the bottom of the bed. As the sun rose the light moved across the room slowly until it crossed Dawn's face. When it landed on her eyes, the brightness made her stir. Blinking rapidly, she reached up to wipe the sleep away. How long had she been out?

When she tried to push to her feet, her numb legs gave way beneath her. She'd been in the same position the entire night apparently, if the red marks on her calves meant anything. Untangling her skirt from her unfeeling knees, she glanced around. Had the boy heard her? She wasn't sure if her fall had made any noise at all, but she was trying her best to be unnoticed. Thankfully, the room was empty besides her ghostly presence. Never before then had she been so relieved that she was alone.

Attempting another try at getting up, Dawn tried at a slower pace, first keeping herself balanced against the wall so she wouldn't fall over. It went a lot smoother this time, her knees stable instead of like jelly as she rose to her full height. Her skirt swished around her knees as she moved forward. She'd been in this room for what was probably already two days, maybe it was finally time to explore her surroundings.

Wandering into the hall she found that she was on the second story of what was most likely a house. Stairs sat at the end of the hall with three doors on either side of her, one of them the room she'd just emerged from. She knew the one across from the bedroom was a bathroom since she'd seen the boy come from it the night before. Maybe the other one was a bedroom as well? Upon closer inspection she found that it was, and it was a _whole lot _cleaner and neater than the other one.

This bedroom seemed to belong to an older person, the furniture of a mature nature: a queen sized bed that sat on a black wooden frame with a tall backboard; a low nightstand with a sleek-looking lamp that was currently off; a bureau that sat as high as her hip with a mirror sitting atop it against the wall. She kept her eyes off her reflection as she gazed around the room. She loved the decor of it, especially with how well it all matched, not only in color but in style. Whoever lived in this room knew style.

Moving from the second bedroom, she walked briskly to the bathroom—she wanted to see if everything in there matched as well. She wasn't disappointed.

Ducks.

Ducks were _everywhere_—the curtain, the bathmat, the soap dispenser, even the toilet seat cover, the toilet seat! It was difficult for Dawn to hold back her giggles as she shut the door behind her. Apparently the adult of the house had a sense of humor, because it was almost like with a sixth sense that she knew it wasn't the boy who'd decorated it.

Downstairs was no different. The couch was a deep red color, a stark contrast to the gray carpet that was like grass under her feet. The coffee table and entertainment stand were of a dark cherry wood finish, the reflection of light pouring in through a window glinting off the table's glossy surface. A flat-screen TV sat on the stand, a blurry reflection faintly showing on its screen. Again she ignored it, moving through the rest of the downstairs area.

She loved the kitchen. It was very modern, the lights hanging low from the ceiling over the breakfast island and above the steel sink. Low-backed chairs with what looked like towels hanging off their backs sat pulled up to the island. All the cupboards matched the living room with their cherry wood shine.

_Whoever owns this house has some _money, she thought, running her fingers over the spotless countertop. _And they're a clean freak. Just like my mom . . ._ Shaking her head, she forced herself to think of other things. There was more than enough distractions in this house, she just had to find them. As she pondered just where to go next, a bark sounded from outside. Racing to the window beside the sink, she stood on her tiptoes to see over the frame.

"A dog!" she cried. Joy coursed through her as she rushed to the door, pulling it open hastily as she escaped to the outside. She loved animals, especially her family's cat Glammy, but absolutely _adored_ dogs, especially puppies. Outside was a pen that took up about half the yard, lined with a chain-linked fence about her height. Beyond the gate that kept it enclosed sat a black puppy that was so big she thought it looked already fully grown. It stood on its hind legs and pushed against the chain link with its front paws, barking again.

Quickly undoing the latch that kept the gate closed she entered the pen. She dropped to her knees as the puppy ran toward her, hopping around her in wonder. It sniffed at her, breathing hot air on her as it tried to identify her. It seemed to think she wasn't a threat, but it never came within arm's length of her. Maybe it was a cautious dog?

After it completed its objective it sat in front of her, its tongue hanging lazily from its mouth as it huffed heavy breaths. Idely she noticed that it wore a red collar, a bone-shaped tag hanging from it. _Maru_, she read, murmuring the name. Its ears perked at her voice, causing it to pause in its huffing. Smiling, she reached out to pet it on the head, but it flinched, shying away from her touch. This struck a deep nerve in her—did it not like her? Did it . . . Did it know she was a ghost and not a living being? She wondered if it couldn't get a scent off of her, if she had a smell at all. This she contemplated as she stood, moving past the gate and latching it behind her.

_What am I really now? Am I . . . Am I even a person anymore?_

She hated that she couldn't come up with a satisfying answer.

* * *

**A/N**: This story is going to come out rougher than my other ones. Sorry!

_Ciao_, I guess?


	3. Aspect

**A/N**: Mmph.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot line. Kudos to Satoshi Tajiri completely.**

* * *

I'm scared.

_Four-year-old Dawn sat in her bed, the covers pulled tightly around her shoulders. It was late, far past a good little girl's bedtime, but she just couldn't sleep. Something was telling her that she shouldn't._

_Outside it was storming. Rain pelted her window and lightning lit up her dark room, sending scary shadows across her floor. She hated the rain. It always kept her awake when she tried to sleep at night, giving her horrible nightmares as the thunder rumbled against their roof. During the day it was bearable, the light from the sun helping to drown out the scariness of the lightning as it flickered across the sky._

_"I want Daddy," she sobbed quietly, covering her ears when thunder boomed outside, shaking the window in its frame. "Daddy, Mommy," she sobbed, more audibly this time. Footsteps sounded outside her room as her mother rushed down the hall. Stepping quickly through the open door she almost jumped onto the bed to comfort her child, wrapping the girl in her arms as she cried against her shoulders._

_"Shh," she cooed as she held Dawn. "Everything's going to be okay, Mommy's here. It'll be fine, everything will be fine as soon as Daddy gets home, you'll see."_

_But her father never made it home that night._

* * *

With how large and lonely the house felt, Dawn decided to trail the boy, following him as he headed out the door for school. Even after three days of haunting his home she still didn't know what his name was, nor had seen seen the other inhabitant. During some snooping she'd done while he was asleep, though, she'd discovered that he attended the same high school that she had, was even in the same grade. Revelling at this information for only a short time, she knew she could never really put it to good use—what deceased person could? Pushing that thought aside, she floated about him as he walked into his first class.

He—of course—claimed a seat in the back, as far away from the front of the room that he could get. Leisurely floating above his head, she studied him as he dropped his bag on the floor by the desk and flopped into his seat. He promptly propped his chin on the heel of his hand, elbow on the desktop. Even though class hadn't started he looked bored already. Dawn found this a curiosity: she'd enjoyed school for the most part because it wasn't a negative experience to her. She had her friends, nice teachers, and interesting subjects; what wasn't there to love? To him, apparently nothing.

It was the same the rest of the day. She'd follow him to class, he'd drop his stuff on the floor, sit down, and stare toward the front of the room until class was over. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was kind of annoying, the way he just went about his day like it was a total nuisance to him when he could have been turning it into a positive. Jeez.

Most of his classes were quiet, the only noise the droning sound of the teacher's voice as they attempted to teach a bunch of teens still dazed from lazy days in the sun over the summer. Sometimes they buzzed with muted whispers. At first it had sounded like petty gossip to Dawn's ears, but when she tuned in she found that they were . . . a little bit morbid. It was mostly girls who were whispering, their heads bent low like they were reading and following along with the teacher in their textbooks, but it was to hide their mouths moving. And boy did they move. Dawn shook off the odd feeling she was getting as they were dismissed.

.

.

.

Reconvening after lunch, kids were even more spaced out because of their full bellies and how long the day seemed to be dragging on. Dawn had taken her position at the boy's shoulder once more as he stared into space, her eyes watching the students with mild curiosity. Most of them were quiet, dozing in their seats, but a hushed voice caught her attention. Blocking out the teacher as they tried in vain to maintain their students' lack of interest, Dawn trained her ears on that one voice. Being so faint, it took her a minute to pinpoint its location, but when she did she found it belonged to a girl sitting a couple seats over, pink hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned over her desk.

Whispering to her neighbor as inconspicuous as possible, the back of her hand close to her mouth to mask the movement of her lips, Dawn frowned. Brushing it off as some girls who just weren't paying attention, the blunette was about to go back to her new hobby of haunting the boy when, like a jolt of static electricity down her spine, the word "summer" caught her attention once more. Eyes snapping back to the girls, she let her morbid curiosity get the better of her, letting herself float higher and mentally pushing her body in their general direction.

Looming ominously over them, she watched as the one with her hand over her mouth lean a fraction closer to her friend. It was the one with the pink hair, her bangs falling into her eyes as she glanced from the other girl to the teacher's turned back before murmuring, "I still can't believe it happened so close to here."

Her friend exhaled through her nose as she agreed quietly. White hair framed her face, a french braid made from her bangs winding around to fall behind her ear. "Nothing like this has really ever happened in that area, right? Does that make it a freak accident or something?"

Pinky looked contemplative as she averted her eyes to her blank notes. "Maybe. It's so scary how easily you can be dragged into the water like that, though. Especially with help so close by."

They continued their hushed conversation, both speaking in vague terms, but Dawn had already stopped listening. _Dragged into the water . . ._

They were talking about a drowning.

With such few details, it was difficult at first to pinpoint exactly what they were talking about, but the rest of the pieces slowly fell into place. _Are they . . . talking about me?_ Slowly floating away, Dawn paid no attention when the teacher yelled at them to be quiet, startling the two. Numbness was all she felt as she tried to convince herself they weren't talking about her, dread anchoring her in place. Maybe someone had drowned at a pool or something in the near vicinity, or had fallen into the ocean while fishing off the shore. The beach they'd gone to that day hadn't been _that_ close to this area, so maybe it was somebody else they'd been whispering about?

She tried to keep telling herself that until the bell rang.

* * *

That night she sat crouched in her little nook, her shoulder leaning against the hard wood of the dresser. The boy was sitting at his computer like usual, clicking away with his mouse. A towel was wrapped around his neck, his wet hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Late evening light peeked through the cracked curtains, a thin line across the floor. She stared down at it shining across her feet. It made her eyes hurt. _I wish he'd open them all the way._

The room was dim, the overhead lamp off. The only light in the room was from the window and the glow of the computer screen. It would change colors as he switched windows, the LED light glinting off his damp hair. She idly wondered what he was looking up. He did this every night and it always peaked her curiosity. But she didn't move—she never did. She'd sit in the same spot, staring at the wall behind him as it changed colors while he browsed pages. His shadow rarely moved.

Waiting. Every night since she'd fallen into his room she waited silently until he went about his routine: he'd already taken a shower, now he was just wasting time at his computer. She sat patiently for hours until he got up, draped the towel across the back of his chair, turned off his computer, and climbed into bed. By then it was late into the night, the sun having gone down hours before.

From her seat she could see could barely see him sprawled under the covers. Dim moonlight lit her toes now, the darkness setting her senses on high alert. _Every night this happens._ Whenever the lights went out she'd begin to buzz with energy. It was like someone had given her a shot of adrenaline straight through her sternum—she was buzzing with it even as she mentally commanded her body to remain still. The voices returned as well, louder and more coherent than ever.

_"Dawn, my sweet baby."_

_"Please . . ."_

With her arms clasped tightly around her legs, she held back tears as she sat there the entire night. She refused to move until they faded away, and only until the welcoming light of day started to shine did they finally leave her, allowing her to fall into a fitful slumber.

* * *

Morning time.

Dress for school silently.

Ignore everybody in class.

Walk home.

Isolate himself for the rest of the night.

Bed time.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Every day was just about the same as the rest. The boy never really talked to anybody else during the school day, so it was easy for Dawn to become bored. Floating as close as she dared was becoming her norm; she needed something else to do. A few days before she'd almost worked up the nerve to find her house, but as soon as she made it out the front door she immediately lost it. It was almost like the boy had become her crutch: as long as she knew he was in the vicinity she was stable, sane.

This day she felt the urge to push her limits. They were in the class with Pinky and White again. The two weren't talking, but they still weren't paying attention: one was sleeping, the other doodling in her notebook. Shaking her head, Dawn maneuvered through the desks until she reached the door. She'd been opening doors without even thinking about it, but this time she tried to faze through it. Acting corporeal had become a habit for her, but after a few tries she succeeded in pushing her body through the wood.

It was silent in the hallway. With class in session it shouldn't have been such a surprise, but the stillness was almost a shock. When she'd been alive she'd never really left the classroom except for class changes or quick bathroom runs. She'd never really paid attention to the actual size of the hall, how wide it was, even with the lockers lining both sides. The lights above her seemed to shine so brightly that they almost blinded her. Shielding her eyes, she continued down the hall.

Her objective was to find May. Misty and Leaf—_That's right, Leaf. I totally forgot about her_—had already graduated. Actually the whole reason they'd gone to the beach in the first place was to celebrate her friends' completion of high school. Only her, May, and Misty had been able to go, though, since Leaf had to keep an eye on her adopted younger brother, Silver, who had been becoming a bit of a trouble maker. On one hand she was glad that Leaf hadn't been there to see Dawn be dragged into the ocean like a rag doll. On the other she wished she'd been able to see her friend one last time.

If she remembered correctly, May had said that her class would be near the end of the hallway that lead to the breezeway. The lockers seemed to be giving off a dull, high-pitched sound as she walked past each one. It made her ears ring in a terribly uncomfortable way, but no matter how much she tried she just couldn't ignore it. It followed her the entire time she walked, only pausing when she'd step to the side and poke her head through a classroom door to check inside. _Nope, not this one_, she'd think before removing herself and trying the next one.

After five rooms and nothing to show, she finally struck gold with the second to last one. Seated in the middle of the room with her head down was May. She had a glum look on her face, her hair frizzy and unkempt. Her complexion was terrible: her once tan skin was now a sickly pale color; a small breakout had spread across her cheeks; her once bright blue eyes looked dull, even under the fluorescent lights. Overall, she just looked terrible. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to the teacher, either, her eyes on her empty desktop.

_Oh, no. Oh, God, May, no_. Trying to keep herself from breaking down as well, Dawn wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, hugging herself so hard she both felt and heard her ribs creak. It killed her that she could do nothing but watch her friend as she began to silently sob. All she wanted to do was rush forward and pull May into a tight embrace, to tell her that everything would be all right, just like her mother would do during thunderstorms when she was young. But she couldn't. All she could do was stand there and fall apart alone in a room full of unsuspecting people.

Before leaving the room, Dawn glanced at her distraught friend one last time. One of the boys next to her had pulled out a tissue and was handing it silently to her. He didn't look at her, only glanced in her direction when she took it from him. They didn't exchange words or make eye contact—May only nodded her head in gratitude before dabbing her eyes with the tissue and turning stoney-faced. The boy just nodded back, shifting his brown hair to the side with his hand as he looked away. In almost an instant she recognized him—it was Brendan, her neighbor.

Turning around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, Dawn pushed into the air and immediately floated over them. She hadn't seen Brendan in months, not even before the accident. He'd been keeping to himself lately, but Dawn had never figured out why. But as she watched them now as she hovered directly over May, so close that the hem of her ghostly skirt almost skimmed the top of her head, she could see their interaction much closer than she ever could have when she was alive.

Brendan had come into Dawn's life while her father had still been alive. He had been her neighbor for as long as she'd known the house to be there. Almost every day after school he and Barry—_Oh, Barry, sweet Barry_—would come over and play with her. She became acquainted with Barry through Brendan since they'd attended the same preschool and the younger blond boy lived down the street from them. The three had grown close, and even when they'd begun to attend middle school and formed other groups of friends, they'd still found time to spend together. Usually Dawn's girlfriends would join, bringing the blunette's circles together. Nothing could have made her happier.

Observing them began to give Dawn a greater insight to their situation: every few seconds she noticed that Brendan would peek at her friend from the corner of his eye, immediately jumping back to the textbook they were supposed to be reading if he thought she'd seen him. It was like watching a nature documentary where one animal would toy at the other, trying to gain their attention but ultimately be ignored. Interesting.

Storing her findings away for another time, Dawn let herself float up until she almost touched the ceiling. She thought about just letting herself continue up until she was no longer in the school, letting the wind carry her off and up, up, up like a balloon until she breached the stratosphere. But she realized she wouldn't be able to find the boy if she decided to just disappear like that.

_Speaking of which_. Glancing at the clock hanging over the doorway, Dawn panicked when she saw that class had only two minutes left. Wasting no time, she threw a glance of farewell at her old friends and disappeared through the wall. It was thankfully easier this time.

Without wasting a moment, Dawn dropped to the floor and began to run down the hall. Her footsteps were a silent echo on the linoleum as she raced to get back to the boy's room. Actually acting like a ghost and flying to the classroom probably would have been more efficient, but she was afraid she'd zoom right past it. She didn't even notice when she ran past a person, her dress fluttering around her knees as she puffed past lockers.

"Holy fu—" The loud clang of a locker door banging grabbed her attention. Stopping and spinning on her heel, she turned to see a boy in front of an open locker, the door banging against his leg. Nothing seemed terribly wrong with him, except the look of pure horror that he wore. It wouldn't have been anything odd and Dawn would have continued to run if he hadn't been _staring right at her_.

Stupefied, she stared back. _Impossible_, she thought. Nobody else had been able to see her so far, so what made her think that he was actually _seeing_ her? To test this, Dawn stepped forward, opening her mouth to speak—nothing but silence. She couldn't get a word out. Her throat felt dry, like she'd been breathing the dry air of a desert her entire life. Forcing down a swallow, she tried again. Pulling apart her parched lips she said, "Can you . . . can you _see_ me?" It was a whisper, but it was so deathly silent in the halls it sounded like a shout.

Seeming to hesitate, the boy grimaced before nodding his head, acknowledging that he could indeed hear _and_ see her.

"Oh, my gosh. Oh, my . . ." Tears flooded her eyes, so much so that she couldn't see anything besides blue and green blurs. She began to break down once again, falling to the ground hard. Her knees made no sound when they hit the linoleum, but the force of it sent a shock through her. The scars along her body, both hidden and visible, glowed brighter than the fluorescents above them. Her dress fluttered around her in a non-existent breeze as her emotions took over.

Physically and emotionally unstable, her ghostly form began to waver. Pulling her hands from her face, she could see that they were slowly fading. One look determined that the rest of her was disappearing as well. Now a blubbering mess, Dawn pawed at the floor and tried to gain stable ground. But her legs refused to work, seemingly glued to the ground now. Looking up in dismay, Dawn saw that he was watching her with a look of horror crossed with one of wonder. Everything was starting to go black around the edges of her vision, so with the last bit of strength she could muster she managed to choke out, "Your name. What's your name?"

As he answered, the dismissal bell rang loudly above their heads. It clanged dully against her eardrums as she disappeared, but she heard what he said as if he had shouted it to her. Maybe he had.

"I'm Drew. Drew Hayden."


End file.
